


A Little Silence

by SoulJelly



Category: FRAGILE さよなら月の廃墟 | Fragile Dreams: Farewell Ruins of the Moon
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulJelly/pseuds/SoulJelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I sure hope I don’t get sick…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Estirose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estirose/gifts).



> I was really pleased to have the chance to write for this fandom, and I hope you enjoy the fic. Happy Yuletide! :)

“I sure hope I don’t get sick…”

He said it with an air of resigned certainty; Seto could already feel the telltale prickling in the back of his throat, an overpowering urge to cough and the dull, quiet headache that throbbed behind his eyelids. Still, he forced himself to keep going, to walk on through the endless dark, his small torch casting its soft pool of light.

“Seto, you are far more likely to get sick if you don’t stop and rest,” said the voice at his back. PF’s weight was reassuring, the hard ridges of machinery pressing against his shoulder blades and the buckles fastened tight at his sides, but most important was the reminder that he was no longer alone.

“Thank you, PF, but…” He coughed weakly. “-I need to keep going.”

He managed a few more steps before he stumbled, unbalanced by a sudden rush of dizziness and a loose slab of pavement, and his knees met sharply with the ground. A gasped rush of breath escaped him. Seto pressed the back of his hand to his eyes, leaning against the wall.

“Seto.”

“Ah, it’s fine, I just…”

“Remember, I am designed to respond to my user’s emotional state. Right now you are unwell and upset and so I will comfort you.”

He shifted his position and heaved himself upright. One hand clutched a stick that looked set to break in two at any point, but still Seto gripped it tightly, the wood rough against his palm. PF whirred faintly as her programming analysed his emotions - sickness was there, discomfort, uncertainty and upset, but beneath that she detected other things.

Determination. Curiosity. Warmth.

And strength, too, immoveable and resolute as an an old, stone wall.

PF knew she was using more power than was wise - her internal battery was running down slowly but surely - but at the time, it wasn’t important. She just needed to know what Seto was feeling, and whether he was really okay to carry on.

“My assessment is that you should rest,” she said eventually.

“I’m okay.”

“Seto, I sense that you are just saying that so that I will not worry. Please remember that being concerned for you is part of my programming. More than that,” PF said, “You helped me in my time of need, when I was in danger of malfunctioning, and I am returning the favour as a friend.”

“Ah, ok…” A sudden jolt of cold ran through him and he shivered, the motion immediately followed by a harsh cough. It took him a few moments to recover but even he had to concede defeat at that point. “I guess I could sit down, for a little while.”

He reached down to unbuckle the fastenings at his sides, and placed PF on a dry patch of ground. Then he leaned against the wall, curling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them as he did so.

It was mere moments before PF found herself frustrated with the silence. She just hated not talking; the constant drip of water reminded her of her near-malfunction earlier, and the quiet carried with it the distant echo of ghostly laughter. At any moment there might be the padding of feet and the low growl of hungry dogs, or wolves, and she fretted at the thought of Seto unable to fight. At least talking was a distraction, even if Seto carried on quietly and didn’t often say much.

And so PF did what she did best when interacting with a person - she struck up conversation.

“I have memories of being here, before. I was here for a long time before you found me.”

“Really?”

“Indeed.”

Seto’s curiosity was piqued. “You said this place was always busy, full of people… What was that like?”

“I cannot remember everything of my time here,” PF reminded him. “However, there was a rush of energy, that changed throughout the day. In the morning people would be tired and frantic, fuelled by hot drinks. As the day went on, people become more relaxed and they would meet with friends here, or sit on the benches and rest with snacks and books.”

In the dim light of the fire, and the cracks of light falling from the damaged ceiling overhead, PF saw his gaze soften, saw him imagining the scene for himself.

“You haven’t seen much of the world, have you Seto?”

The boy shook his head. “I lived my whole life with the old man who looked after me. I learned a lot through books, and the stories he told me, but I never really got to know anyone else. I suppose now, I won’t get the chance. Unless I can find the silver-haired girl…”

“Yes, well, we are friends too aren’t we?”

Seto nodded. Something in his face suggested amusement; was it really so obvious, thought PF, that she wasn’t really fond of the silver-haired girl? Seto felt like he needed her, whoever she was.

Seto’s eyelids began to drift closed.

“PF, what else do you know about? About the world?”

“My memory banks contain some stories, though I cannot access everything. What would you like to know about?”

“Silver-haired girls,” he mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing… Just tell me something interesting. Tell me about you, if you like.”

PF was flattered. “Well, there is not much to tell. As I told you when we met, I am a Personal Frame and I am designed to respond to my user’s emotional needs. I enjoy talking.”

“Uh-huh,” replied Seto, the sound muffled as he turned his head to the side and reached a more comfortable position.

“The very first model of the Personal Frame was developed in the year 2056, designed by-”

And so PF talked.

And talked.

… And so then I said- Seto? ...Seto, are you there?”

Her only reply was quiet, rhythmic breathing interrupted by the odd sniffle.

“Seto, you are not answering me any more. Your breathing has slowed and I think you may be snoring a little; all signs point to the conclusion that you have fallen asleep, which means that… that I am effectively talking to myself.”

She paused.

“I have also concluded that perhaps I enjoy talking a little too much. Although maybe that is my programming responding to you; maybe you don’t really like the silence.” There followed a series of low beeps from PF’s circuitry, and a button on the side of the console flashed orange. “I am engaging in Power Saving mode. I will resume normal operations when you wake up, Seto. Not that you’re hearing any of this.”

Not that Seto would have understood much of that, given how little he seemed to know about machines. She should ask him about that, when he awoke. He was a mysterious to PF as she probably was to him. There was another small pause - one where, if PF were human, she would have sighed, or shaken her head.

“I will be quiet now. Really. Sleep well, Seto.”


End file.
